


Pretty In Pink

by DinosaurGummies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Domestic Bliss, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Handprint Kink (Supernatural), M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Spanking, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinosaurGummies/pseuds/DinosaurGummies
Summary: Cas has only been Dean's boyfriend for a couple months, and his Dom for even less time, but even though this isn't how Dean intended to introduce Cas to his... panty thing, it's a surprisingly comfortable experience when it happens.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 97
Collections: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2021 Mid-Winter 5k





	Pretty In Pink

Cas’ instruction had been simple-- While he was at the farmers' market with Sam and Jack, Dean was to do something for himself. Something just for him.

Well… the panties definitely count as that. He hasn’t even told Cas about these, yet. 

Cas knows a lot, more than anyone, but this… He’s working up to it. They’ve only been together a couple months, they’ve barely started talking about kink. Cas has been great about it, in the general sense, they’ve tested out a little, just playing with dominance and submission, no gear or anything, nothing super formal. He’s promised Dean could ask him for anything, and Dean thinks he really means it, it’s just…

Well, this one’s been secret for a long, long time. One he’s never shared with anybody-- even Rhonda, the girl who hooked him on it, didn’t know what it did for him. Not really. 

At least, he’s pretty sure she didn’t get how big a thing it was, because a nineteen year old guy can get it up for anything and anyway, it’s not about that.

He doesn’t even _do_ anything, he hasn’t _planned_ anything, he just gets the pair of panties he’d hidden in the back of his underwear drawer out, slips out of everything else and into them, feels the way they hug his ass. How the satin feels against his junk. 

They’re high-waisted, and cut low across the thigh, pale pink satin with black ribbons, little bows. There’s a giddiness in putting them on, they can’t be mistaken for anything other than what they are. He’d kept them folded inside an old pair of boxers, totally hidden, but now he can strut around his empty room just enjoying them. He can flop out on the bed he shares with Cas, and just enjoy wearing them. Wearing nothing but them.

He loses track of time, just lying around enjoying his panties, doesn’t have the chance to hide them before Cas gets home, he’s lying on his stomach when he hears the door open, hears Cas taking in a soft breath. 

He can’t look. He’d thought he could bring this up as a hypothetical first or something, but no, he gave Cas an ass-first view of the whole damn fetish.

“I can see you’ve been a very good boy.” Cas’ voice is low, and the door clicks shut again behind him, but Dean still can’t bring himself to turn around. Not even as Cas’ hand skims up his naked back, curves warm and steady around the back of his neck and kneads away a little of his tension. “You’ve been treating yourself to something you like.”

“Yes.” He closes his eyes, tries to master his nerves. 

“Sam is taking Jack out to the movies, they dropped me home.” One more squeeze, and then he strokes up and down Dean’s back. “I thought we’d have a little time alone. I wanted to tell you about what we bought. And I wanted to hear about what you did to take care of yourself.”

He finally peeks back over his shoulder, sees the warmth in Cas’ face, the complete lack of censure. Slowly, Dean rolls over, tugging Cas’ hand to come rest over the center of his chest.

“Tell me about what you got.”

“Of course.” Cas’ smile widens, and his thumb sweeps in gentle arcs. “I bought a jar of honey. Sam picked out several vegetables. I got you some good pie apples. And we let Jack pick out some things he’ll want to show you… I bought some potted herbs I wanted to try growing in our kitchen, Sam promised to pick up a sun lamp for them while he and Jack are out… Just a couple, to see how they do. Basil and thyme. And I bought some candles, since we never know when we’ll need candles… and I bought you some fudge.”

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Yes.” He shrugs, his hand trailing down to Dean’s belly, then up-- across his chest, to his shoulder, it fits to his shoulder. He used to be branded there and he wants to be again. “Tell me about your day?”

“Not much to tell. I, uh… I put these on. For me. I wasn’t going to tell you about ‘em yet. It’s just… it’s something I do for me.”

“That’s good.” His hand slides back down, the heel of his hand rubs a firm little circle, just above the waistband. “That’s what I asked you to do. You never do enough for yourself… just for yourself. What do you like about them?”

“Dunno.” Dean shrugs and squirms, but Cas knows just how to touch him, to make things seem _okay_ , to make him calm down, and the hand stroking over his torso banishes all the wrong kind of butterflies, just leaves the right ones. “I like how they make me feel. Like… it’s not about how anyone looks at me. Like… no one else’s opinion matters for a while, ‘cause I’m… I can just feel like this for me. And I don’t, you know, I don’t want a lot of other people looking at me, thinking I’m soft. Pretty. Can be those things alone, though.”

“You can be those things with me.” Cas promises him, other hand sliding through Dean’s hair. “If you would like.”

“Yeah, maybe. It’s… it’s different, when it’s you. You’re different, from… other things I’ve had before, other times I tried to get serious. Could never… could never be my whole self with another person.”

“Dean, my beloved… I hope you feel free to be your whole self with me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He closes his eyes, gives into every soothing little touch, the gentle way Cas’ fingers tug at his hair just that tiniest bit, the way that it grounds him. “It-- it’s okay, if you say it. That you think I’m…”

“Pretty?” Cas whispers low.

“Say it again.” 

“ _Pretty_.” And he drags his fingers down from Dean’s shoulder, over his chest, over his belly, down to wrap around his hip. “Not only because of these. You are… so lovely.”

“Tell me?” The muscles in his abdomen jerk and heave with the enormity of it, even when that light touch no longer raises goosebumps in its wake. 

“Your soul shines… so much brighter than any other I have ever witnessed. You _stun_ me, Beloved. It is your softness that leaves me in awe, it always has been. And your eyes… you have very pretty eyes, you know. Warm and green as new life… bright with the good inside you. Gentle, the way you look at me… _So_ lovely.”

It’s too much, being loved like this. Being seen like this. He still wants more of it.

He rolls over, crawls into Cas’ lap, arms around his waist and head butted gently into his stomach, and big, sure hands rub his back when he does.

“Beautiful boy…” Cas coos, and pets at him when he shudders under the praise. “My sweet Beloved… my _Dean_. Look at you, how soft and how lovely… I am privileged, to hold you like this. To be given your tenderness. To see you like this. Your trust in me is a _gift_ , one I see for the treasure that it is.”

He whines, a soft sound in the back of his throat as he twists and turns and rearranges himself, kisses the warmth of Cas’ belly through his shirt. 

“My sweet boy…” Cas continues to pet at him, to help him sink down into the feeling of being his, protected.

That’s the thing Cas offers him, that no one else has ever been able to. With Cas… it’s okay, if he just wants to let go and let someone else protect him. He’s never really had that… even when Bobby had tried to let him be a kid, he’d had responsibility beat into him-- usually metaphorically-- too much to let go and not be on guard. Even with an adult who wanted nothing more than for him to be a kid, and who was fully capable of keeping him safe, he was on guard, all the time… It took a lot of time and work to start undoing that damage, and he knows a lot of that is work he’s done on his own, sure, but… having an angel watching over you sure helps. 

He never really got to feel small-- not since he was four, and any memories from before get hazy around the edges, though he still has a couple. Mostly, he remembers needing to grow up fast, be a man about this, be a man about that. He’s never been with someone who just wanted to give him a space to rest-- not someone who understood he could only ever do that when he knew he’d be safe. And now… now Cas, who makes him a priority in brand new ways, who’s really seized on some of his gentle introduction of the concept of kink as a way to let Dean off the hook and let him let go.

It’s not like they do any kind of age regression thing, he thinks that’s too much for him, or it’s more than he needs. But Cas treats him like he’s delicate sometimes-- not in a way that chafes, where he has to prove himself, but like… it’s just okay, to be the kind of man who likes when his boyfriend calls him sweet and likes when his boyfriend calls him pretty. Like it’s just okay to trust Cas and not be so on edge.

It’s a _lot_ sometimes, even with how little they’ve really started to do. It’s a lot, to face the way Cas loves him head-on. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to feel like he deserves it, except when Cas works him down into that place where he stops worrying, and then… then it’s okay, to be loved. It leaves him shaking but it’s good.

“Come here.” Cas commands, and Dean pushes himself up and lets himself be guided, so that he’s sitting in Cas’ lap on the bed, curled in against him, and he hears the soft sound of Cas’ wings coming out in the moment before they wrap around him, and that always makes something taut inside him go slack. If he’s cocooned in those wings, everything’s good and everything’s safe.

“You like ‘em, then?” He mumbles, his lips against Cas’ throat, nose filled with the smell of him. Honey and dandelions, sunshine and rain, the tang of a coming storm and the peace of a summer evening. And soap, Dean’s peppermint soap. One of Cas’ hands is wrapped around his shoulder, right where they both know its imprint used to be, and he wonders if Cas misses seeing it there like he misses wearing it. 

Cas’ other hand is palming his ass, through the cool pink satin, and it warms quickly with his touch.

“I do.”

“I wanted… They looked like something the girl in an old movie’d wear. Show she was sexy but not like… femme fatale sexy. Like… just a little.”

“I like them.” Cas nuzzles into his hair. Kisses at his temple. “Are there others?”

“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head a little, burrows in closer, one hand sliding up Cas’ back until his fingertips find the soft warmth of invisible feathers. “Easier to hide just one pair.”

“Would I be permitted to buy you others?”

He shivers and holds on tight, and hopes Cas is feeling his yes coming through even if he can’t say it. 

“We’ll look together if you like… if there are others you know you would like, or if you just want to show me where you found these.” Another kiss, the brush of feathers across his bare back when Cas brings his wings in closer around him. “Is there anything else? Anything else you want?”

He probably means lingerie, or at least stuff in that vein. Stuff that would make Dean feel soft and pretty. And Dean thinks it’s way too early into this thing, to ask about a collar. Though what he wants is a lot more serious than that.

“Want you to mark me again.” He begs. Kisses at Cas’ jaw, at the little cleft of his chin, waits to be kissed back. “Want your handprint on me.”

Cas eases his wings back slowly, so that they don’t disappear from around Dean all at once-- they’d learned the hard way not to do that. He nudges gently at him a few times with them in the process, one pollex finding Dean’s cheek. 

“My handprint?” His lips brush Dean’s ear, his voice sends something sweet and hot coursing through his veins. “Oh, Beloved… Lie down, here in my lap. You’re… so lovely, and so good. I would grant you anything you wished of me.”

He kneads at him first, once he has him laid out. Strokes and squeezes at Dean’s ass and murmurs soft and low in languages old and new, words Dean doesn’t need to make out to understand in moments like this-- he asked, once, but it always means the same things. Beautiful, Beloved, Good Boy, _Mine_. He’s gentle until Dean can hardly stand it, until he’s squirming-- squirming even more, when the edges of a few feathers stroke lightly past sensitized skin. He nudges at the panties a little, to expose more cheek, and then finally, _finally_ , his hand comes down.

Spanking, with Cas, is never a punishment and always a reward. If Dean asks him to do it, he will, and he’ll tell him how good he looks with his skin all pink. He holds back, obviously, but it’s _enough_. It’s not about how painful it is or how long the pain lasts, it’s about giving Castiel control, it’s about the fact that sometimes he needs something to ground him, and it can be a light sting, a sound that rings out in the room, heat rising to the surface of his skin… sensations to keep him in the moment, but a pace that’s outside his control-- a pace Castiel sets, because he knows what Dean really needs.

Usually he moves around, usually he’s satisfied to bring a kind of an even glow to the surface. This time, he delivers each stroke to the same spot, until there’s a nice, sweet ache there. 

“ _Perfect_.” Feathers brush over the skin again, making Dean jump a little, sparking a gasp and a low, happy sigh. Cas’ hand runs through Dean’s hair, squeezes the back of his neck, his shoulder. “Get up, Dean. Look in the mirror.”

He does, Cas supporting him with a firm hand when his legs wobble. From the front, he’s a prettier sight than he’d been before, when he’d been admiring himself on his own. His eyes are wide and dark, his lips are flushed, and so are his cheeks. His nipples had been cute before, sure, but now they could cut glass. He’s not really _hard_ , because it hasn’t been about that this time, but he’s filling out the front of his panties just a little more than he used to be, even if the difference is slight. And he sees Cas’ hands, big square hands, skimming gently up his thigh, past his hip to his waist and back down, and it makes him feel delicate, special. 

It’s the rear view, though, that’s special, that he wants. He turns when Cas urges him, looks back over his shoulder to see the deep pink handprint just so on one cheek. It might not be the permanent mark a piece of him craves, but he still loves to see it.

“Is that good?” Cas asks him, fingertips dancing over his belly, making the muscles jump. “Dean, you have the prettiest bottom. I would like to dress you in silk and lace, just to be able to see it framed the way you deserve…”

It is not _fair_ , that Cas can say the word ‘bottom’-- just meaning the body part and not the guy who takes it-- and have it come out sounding hotter and filthier than someone else saying ‘ass’.

“Okay.” He swallows, turning back to look at Cas instead of the mirror, to see the sharp focus in those blue eyes-- even when it’s not about sex, he gets so intent, his pupils so wide, always looks ready to devour him… “I mean, it’s… real good. You can do whatever you want to it.”

“Can I?” He chuckles, and gives the other side a little squeeze. “Lie down on the bed. As much as I like these, I’m going to take them down for a while.”

Dean complies, lifts his hips so that Cas can roll his panties down to bunch around his thighs and keep them together. Closes his eyes and feels the soft kiss of feathers just brushing against reddened skin, and then the literal kisses from Cas’ lips, as he works over every inch of that handprint, slow and sweet.

He skips the arnica gel, when Dean whines at the thought of the handprint vanishing too quickly, and lays another kiss to the center of the handprint’s palm. 

“Very well. Just the lotion.” He sighs, indulgent, and Dean smells the lavender, hears the slick sound of Cas rubbing his hands together first to warm it up before he’s massaging it in. It still lessens the sting and the ache, even if it’s not for bruising. 

Cas works his lotioned hands up Dean’s back, after, lets his hand rest a long moment at one shoulder, and then he’s getting Dean’s panties back in place, and sliding into bed to hold Dean close, in his arms and in his wings. 

“I’ll text Sam to keep Jack out a little longer.” He promises, and being wrapped in those wings makes up for the loss of one of Cas’ hands on him as he does so. “He already knows he’s on dinner duty.”

Dean groans at that, and Cas chuckles, and drops kisses to his hair. 

“Just eat one healthy dinner, and I’ll carry you back to bed to feed you fudge.” Cas promises, and that sounds like a pretty good deal.


End file.
